Page 86 of Kiss Me Again

“It wasn’t your job to be watching them. It was mine.”

I huff. “Except that they were sleeping. At home. With their father present. Hell, you’re not even hired to work on the weekends. You were there to see me.”

“I was there to see all of you,” she counters. Her smile is sad and faded, and it crushes me. “I love the crap out of your kids. Maybe that’s not how I’m supposed to feel, since this is just supposed to be a job, but I do.” Her gaze drifts away. “I’m not great at boundaries. And I fucked up.” Her eyes return to me, and they shine more than before. “I fell in love with all of you.”

I swallow against the hard knot in my throat. “How could I see that as anything but wonderful?”

She laughs once and bitterly. “Because that is not what a nanny is supposed to do. At what point did I morph from a nanny to something else…the dad’s girlfriend? I can’t say, but it happened. And it wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m not…I have never been a kid person. That’s a part of why I thought a temporary nanny gig would be a good transition time for me between jobs—no chance of getting attached to anyone. But then you were the client. And Franny and Aiden were the kids. How could anyone not get attached to you all?”

I huff a laugh. “You’d be surprised.”

“How do you mean?”

“Pretty sure one of the previous nannies thought they were the spawn of Satan.”

She laughs fully at that, and I fear it will be the last time I hear such a thing. “Wow. She was nuts, then. They’re wonderful.”

“I always think so, but I’m biased.”

“And now, so am I.” She pauses. “I know I texted about it this morning, but I want an update—how is Franny feeling?”

“She’s doing good. She gets around on her walking boot like nothing will ever slow her down. I wish she was a little more careful, of course, but even her doctor says her progress is better than average, so I’ll take it.”

It’s then that Lily takes a full breath, as though she had been waiting for that reassurance for a long time. “I’m so relieved to hear that.” Suddenly, she takes my hand in hers. “I am so sorry, Cormac. For what happened to her.”

“You have no reason to—

“Yes, I do. I might be new to the gig, but I was still the professional in the situation. Her well-being was my responsibility. And I failed. And I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “Stop. Please.”

She gives my hand a squeeze before taking it back when our food arrives. We poke at it more than eat it. The consommé is fine, but my stomach is determined not to care. The moment it hits, everything inside lurches. I am too nervous and upset to eat. I knew better than to try. But it’s still better than the stilted conversation of pointless apologies and thorny topics, so I take another sip.

“How are things with the resort?”

“Good. Moving along.” I’m not sure what else to say. How do I ask her not to break up with me? To have patience with Abigail? To stay when she’s so obviously done with all of this? I cannot imagine what the past couple of weeks have been like for her. How much she must have beaten herself up over all of this.

Years of being with my children have taught me that accidentswillhappen. Kids are accident magnets. I do my best with them, and even while doing my best, things will go wrong.

But Lily hasn’t had years of learning this lesson. This is all new for her. So even if Abigail wasn’t being awful about it, she still would be freaked out. Since Abigail has been awful, there is no way for me to talk Lily out of her guilt.

Guilt is like resentment. Relationship poison.

I clear my throat of bile and ask, “How are things for you, Lily? Whatever happened to the restaurant you told me about?”

She takes another deep breath.

I will not like this. Whatever it is.

She puts on a polite smile, and I know I’m right. Lily doesn’t do polite smiles with me. “I’m taking the job. It will be best for everyone.”

There it is. She knows she’s never seeing them again. Which means that she’s done with me, too.That knowledge lances through my heart, and I fight the urge to argue. It’s in my nature, and right now, my nature doesn’t matter. “I understand.”

Again, her mouth tightens like she’s fighting words or tears or both. She pushes her plate away. “I’m sorry to do this, but I need to go.”

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